Nameless (Nameless #1)(35)
Zo looked up in time to see Gryphon at the tail end of the precession. Leather straps crisscrossed his bare chest, storing two wood-hilted daggers. A short sword hung from a sheath at his side. He met Zo’s gaze for a brief second before his attention traveled to the Gate Master’s hand at her hip. His brow furrowed. His lips thinned into a straight line. The expression looked wrong for his face. His commanding build always made him seem older, but walking behind the chief he looked like a pup with only his big toe dipped into the pond of manhood.
The Gate Master leaned over to a man with a long white beard. “So much attention for bringing in one little Wolf.” He shook his head. “Are we that starved for heroes inside the Gate?”
The horns stopped, but Gryphon didn’t give his attention to the chief like the rest of the audience. His expression darkened into pure and utter loathing as he glared in Zo’s direction.
“Today we celebrate the capture of a Wolf! Several of you will marry within the next few weeks. Consider today’s unique entertainment an early wedding present from your chief.” The crowd clapped and cheered, Nameless included, though their hands came together with almost too much vigor, desperate to show their devotion.
A soldier yanked on the rope around Gabe’s neck and brought him to his knees. “Striker Gryphon, son of Troy, has brought us a little present.” The chief grabbed a fistful of Gabe’s thick, blond hair and pulled up his head to show the handsome face of the Wolf.
“Today, the Wolf and other enemies to the clan,” he gestured to the line of accused on the stand, “will die for their crimes.”
Again, a predatory roar erupted from the massive crowd. Zo wanted nothing more than to find Tess and shield her from what was to come. The Gate Master’s leathery hand inched up her arm to the back of her neck, leaving a trail of fire on her skin. The sensation triggered her gag reflex.
Gryphon looked down from the stage at Gate Master Leon as he caressed the bare skin around the healer’s neck. The man whispered something in her ear. She closed her eyes, as if willing him away. Hot anger coursed under Gryphon’s skin. An impulse he could only compare to the adrenaline he felt on the battlefield. Only this anger was much more complicated.
Chief Barnabas took the rope from his servant and handed it to Gryphon. “The Wolf is your prisoner. How will he die?” Gryphon could have said anything: “Let him be hanged. Let him be stoned. Let him lose his head.”
The Wolf looked up at him without fear, prepared to meet his end with dignity. No pleading. No begging for mercy. How could Gryphon kill such a worthy opponent with his arms tied behind his back? Some men deserved that shame. Not this Wolf.
Gryphon looked out at the expectant crowd, then back at the Wolf. He cursed under his breath and drew his own sword. “Let him die fighting!” he shouted. His declaration echoed throughout the entire square.
The murmurs of the people rolled like a giant wave, crescendoing into a chorus of chaos and cheers. Gryphon looked down at the brothers in his mess. Most had smirks on their faces. Ajax looked furious while Zander kept his arms folded, composed as ever. Joshua stood a ways back with the boys in his age group, his head whipping from right to left in confusion.
“Release the prisoner and arm him.” Barnabas rested a hand on Gryphon’s shoulder. His voice was all but swallowed in the buzz of the crowd. “I never figured you for a politician, Striker.” He smiled approvingly and walked off the platform to take his padded chair close to Gate Master Leon and the healer.
Ajax was at Gryphon’s side before he had time to process the chief’s words. “What. The. Hell?”
Gryphon smiled and shrugged. “He doesn’t deserve to die without a weapon in his hand.”
Ajax shook his head. “This is nothing but your own blood lust.”
Gryphon’s eyes darkened. “This is mercy, Jax. A chance for him to die with dignity. It’s what I’d want if the circumstances were reversed.”
Ajax looked down, still shaking his head in anger. “Do you think this maggot would show us mercy?” He yanked on one of the straps of his breastplate. “Your mercy will get people killed one day.”
The Wolf stood statue still on the opposite side of the platform. His unkempt hair was hastily tied back by a Nameless attendant. He held a loose grip on a short sword and a Ram shield at his side.
Gryphon locked eyes with his enemy and didn’t break contact until the Master of Arms walked up to the center of the platform where they stood and placed his hand on the ground between them. The whole square went quiet. “On this day Striker Gryphon, son of Troy challenges the Wolf prisoner in a battle to the death,” he roared.
The officiator lifted his hand from the ground. The two fighters prowled the perimeter, back and forth in a deadly dance until the Wolf sprang forward, fast as a gust of wind. His blade met Gryphon’s shield like quick whips of lightning. The force knocked Gryphon on his heels then sent him reeling backward into a roll. Gryphon pushed up onto the balls of his feet, weapon ready. He didn’t have time to regret his “mercy” before the next attack from the Wolf and his lightning arm.
Gryphon dodged and rolled again. The Wolf was abnormally fast, especially considering his current condition. Gryphon went to strike his left shoulder then swept the surprised Wolf’s feet from under him. He jumped on top of the Wolf and jammed his shield into the Wolf’s mangled hand. The Wolf cried out and dropped his weapon.